Timebound(91)

“You know I’d switch places…” he began.

“I know, Connor,” I said. “Just teasing. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be…”

So at exactly 5:58 P.M. I was in the library, my parasol and handbag in one hand and the CHRONOS key in the other. Daphne was barking downstairs in the kitchen, probably at her nemesis the squirrel, and Trey was in his car, headed home. Connor was in front of me, looking like he was about to change his mind again and tell me we’d find some other way. I leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek and then, without pausing to think further, locked in the destination and closed my eyes.





18





When my eyes opened again, I was looking at a clear blue morning sky and could feel the faint chill of a crisp October breeze against my face. I’d gotten used to the sight of the lush green foliage at the stable point when viewing the location in the log, but it was a bit startling to have my other senses kick in as well. The island itself was quiet except for birds and chirping insects; I could detect the dull hum of a crowd in the distance. I caught the faint aroma of roasting peanuts and, much closer, the unmistakable smell of mud.

The local time was 8:03 A.M., one minute after Katherine and Saul’s arrival. The gates of the Exposition had opened at eight, so it was still too soon for foot traffic to make its way to the Wooded Island near the center of the fairgrounds. I glanced around quickly. A dark-haired kid of maybe seven or eight years was energetically sweeping the sidewalk in front of a rustic cabin, and a bit farther away to the right I could see the retreating figures of Saul and Katherine.

Each time that I had viewed their arrival through the medallion, I’d seen Saul grab Katherine’s elbow to help her up the small hill that provided cover for their sudden appearance on the island. The gesture had seemed like unnecessary gallantry, but I now realized that the soggy terrain, combined with decidedly unsensible clothing, was going to make it a lot more difficult to reach the sidewalk than I’d thought.

Sighing, I tucked the CHRONOS key into the hidden pocket in the bodice of my dress. I hiked up the long skirt with one hand and used my unopened parasol as a brace to pull myself up the incline. The ground was not as tightly packed as it looked and the tip of my parasol sank about six inches into the loose, damp soil and mulch, throwing me off balance. I caught myself and managed—just barely—not to fall flat on my face, but I made enough noise to attract the attention of the kid sweeping in front of the cabin.

My parasol was now streaked with dark mud and my gloves were ruined—so much for maintaining a ladylike appearance. I peeled off the gloves and stashed them in my bag, brushing the soil and stray leaves off the parasol as best I could before opening it, my hands shaking badly.

The shaking hands brought to mind my one and only time onstage, during a fifth-grade play. I had been desperately afraid that the curtain would go up, with dozens of eyes watching, and I would forget both of my very short lines. Even though the only eyes on me right now were those of the boy in front of the cabin, the feeling was the same. I took in a few deep breaths to calm myself, and then gave the kid a haughty look that I hoped would suggest he mind his own business. I turned to follow Saul and Katherine, who were now on the bridge that crossed the lagoon to link the Wooded Island with the main Exposition.

I could still see them clearly as I approached the bridge over the lagoon. Saul towered over Katherine’s petite form, in her gray dress and purple hat topped with the lavender feather—just as I remembered from the many times I had watched them through the medallion.

I picked up my pace, still hoping to follow plan A and keep the two of them in sight. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, a necessity. They would end up at the Ferris wheel around ten-fifteen, and—if that failed for some reason—I could always follow them downtown, where Katherine would be alone for much of the afternoon. But even if the version ahead of me was a half century younger than the grandmother I knew, and even if she had no idea who I was, I knew that I would feel much more comfortable if that silly lavender feather remained in view.

Plan A, however, was in jeopardy from the beginning. My ungraceful climb to the sidewalk had put me farther behind the two of them than I had planned. It would only take me a few minutes to catch up if I walked quickly, but there was trouble, quite literally, on the horizon. Although they were the only two people walking away from the island, about fifty yards ahead of them were the thousands of people who had arrived via the much more conventional route of the Sixty-Seventh Street entrance. Crowds were gathering around the various buildings in front of us and, unless Katherine and Saul turned to the right or left and walked along the lagoon surrounding the Wooded Island, they would be swallowed by the crowd before I closed the distance between us.